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aninadi-blog · 6 years ago

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For the third anniversary of my start to the big adventure that was Biarritz, France, and because I’m a very nostalgic person, I’ve decided to write a love letter to this hauntingly beautiful strip of land. The Basque Country. Euskadi.

There’s the coast, of course. The Atlantic Ocean that slaps it’s waves ferociously against beaches and cliffs and the small harbours of Hendaye, Saint-Jean-de-Luz and Biarritz in winter. This is the birthplace of mythic Belharra. The enormous wave that appears out of nowhere and only for a couple of days in freezing winter. This coast has also produced whalers, which have not only hunted in the Bay of Biscay, but also as far away as Newfoundland and Labrador. Grizzly adventurers who risked their life in the unknown.

In summer the sea is more docile, lapping against the shore lazily. Sometimes even too lazy to form any proper waves. But the water temperatures are definitely more fun for surfing. A lot of party waves are to be had in summer, because the whole coast transforms into tourist central.

There’s the mountains, the Pyrenees. The majestic frontier of Spain and France. The site of the battle of Roncesvalles, the refuge of smugglers with their contraband, ETA members and home to the Basajun, a basque spirit of the forest. But it’s also the starting point for many pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela. Home to the pottoks, the wild ponies, and herds of sheep, the foothills of the Pyrenees offer great possibilities for hiking. Every hike is rewarded with a magnificent view of the rolling hills and the coastline.

There’s the people. The Basques I have met are probably not representative of the average population. They welcomed me and every and any friends of mine with open arms and a lot of alcohol. I was glad to have this group of local friends I could escape to, from the Swiss clique that had begun to form and was as frigid, as my people so often are.

Oh they know how to throw a party. In summer there’s two of the biggest street festivals. There’s the better known Fiesta de San Fermín, where bulls are chased through the city of Pamplona and then there’s the Fêtes de Bayonne in the French city of Bayonne. But there’s this kind of festivities in basically every village, town or city. Traditionally dressed in all white, except for the red tissue knotted around the neck and the red scarf draped on the hip.

There’s the language. This weird language that no one really knows, where it has come from. It keeps linguists pondering it’s origins. It is no roman language, no germanic or slavic language. There is only one language, which works similarly and that is hungarian. I have this fascination for strange languages, I am fascinated by Hebrew and Romansh for example. Maybe that’s because my mother tongue is a weird language - Swiss German.

There’s the food. The pintxos - the Basque tapas. I really enjoy this type of food, because it’s all about sharing and mixing different tastes. As with tapas it’s usually the starter of the meal or it’s part of an apéro. What I also found fascinating, is the fact, that a lot of smaller villages have a special ingredient with its name. There’s the black cherry of Itxassou for example or the pretty famous chili of Espelette. The Basques know how to combine the French savoir-vivre and the culinary traditions of Spain, which results in delicious dishes and a lot of overeating.

There’s the sports. Not a single person sits on the edge of their seats during a football match. It’s all about rugby - a ruffian’s game played by gentlemen. Or about an elegant game called “Pelote”. A little like Squash it’s played against a wall, the fronton, which can be found in every basque village and forms the centre of said village. It’s played with a regular racket, with the bare hand or with the chistera, a curved, woven wicker scoop.

And last but definitely not least, the surf culture! Biarritz is a Mecca for surfers, in summer there is no wave to be had to yourself, the Cote des Basques crowded with wannabes. I remember my first surf lesson quite well. A beautiful sunny day in march I got into a wetsuit - a struggle - and into the water. The sensation of standing on a wave! I don’t think I could describe this feeling to someone who hasn’t experienced it on his own. But this feeling is the reason why people put up with the struggles of surfing. The board is heavy, you fall into more or less cold water constantly, you paddle, you paddle, you paddle. But the feeling of standing up on a wave is so worth it.

There’s the memories. I’ve created bonds, some for life hopefully, others for days or weeks. Living off of coffee, ham and cheese toast, pasta with pesto and beer. Long summer nights, chatting, laughing, sharing secrets and gossip. Listening to the waves crashing onto the rocks, feeling the breeze and the salt on our skin.

I have fallen in love and out of love in Biarritz. I have returned here to try to cure my heart ache. I have made life changing decisions in this small coastal town. I’ve forged an intimate bond with this secretive, mysterious strip of land. I even got it inked into my skin. And I have promised myself to discover it further. And yes, I’m in love. In love with the sea, the hills and mountains, in love with the people and their culture, the food, the sports and yes, I’m in love with surfing and I don’t ever want to lose all these wonderful memories.

And if you have any questions about the Basque Country: ask.

#pays basque #basque country

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